Lops of Laughs

What can I say about the past couple of weeks except that my life is a comedy tour? The following stories are actual events in my actual life that have actually taken place. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.


Ethan's class is apparently singing a song for graduation. This song will not be a surprise to me on graduation day because he has been singing it non-stop. Or will it???? You see, I think that perhaps, it MAY be surprising to hear the actual lyrics rather than the lyrics that Ethan has interpreted. Something about charring his future, waiting his turn....I think something in Hebrew (I hope, otherwise the refrain is made up of totally unrecognizable words of the English language....) It is going to be a cliffhanger for sure.

It began on the way home a few weeks ago, when Ethan asked me what a lop (pronounced l-a-w-p) was. I told him that I didn't think lop was a word. He insisted it was. A few days after that mysterious conversation took place, I heard him singing his song about "creating a lop that lasts". Aha! Our conversation suddenly made sense and I asked him if the word he meant to say might be "love", as in "creating a love that lasts". His reply: "No, Mommy. That doesn't even make any sense. A love that lasts! Ha! That's ridiculous! It's lop."

Fast forward to another week. I picked him up from school and I could tell he was very anxious to tell me something. As he was dancing and jumping around with excitement, we had the following conversation:

Ethan: "Mommy! You were right I think!"

Me: "About what?"

Ethan: "About lop! I think you were right that it wasn't lop in the song!"

Me: "Oh yeah?"

Ethan: "Yes! It isn't lop. It's bomb."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In preparation for Ethan's birthday celebration at school, I called the kosher bakery to order some cupcakes. I told the person that answered the phone that I wanted to order two dozen kosher cupcakes. Chocolate with green frosting. She asked me for the all the typical information that an order like that would require and when she asked for my last name, I hesitated for a minute, wondering if I should put the order under Slipakoff, or the pseudonym I like to use that is MUCH easier to spell which is Adams. At the last minute, I decided to go with Adams.

When she said, "And how do you spell that?", I knew I made the right choice. Slipakoff would've done this poor lady in.

After I carefully spelled out A. D. A. M. S., she moved on and asked for my phone number. Which I cheerfully provided. To which she replied:

Wow! That's a lot of numbers.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ethan stunned me the other day by asking me, "Mommy? What's that secret place where the babies go?" Eh!?

I stammered for a second and quickly thought how to handle this question, Should I go for the full on "talk" or just try and breeze through by playing dumb?

My answer went something like this:

"Um. Uh." Gulp. Then a squeaky, ".....the uterus.....?"

Yes!", he said, "The uterus! That's what I meant!"

Phew.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And then today at Ethan's school, I overheard the following conversation:

Sweet little five-year-old girl #1: Ouch! Wah! I just got punched in the nuts.

Sweet little five-year-old girl #2: What are nuts?

Girl #1: You know. These. (points to nether regions)

Girl #2: Where?

Girl #1: You know. Your Baaaalls.

Girl # 2: What are balls?

Girl #1: These things. Here. (points again) The two things.

Girl #2: OH! The two squishy things you mean?

Girl #1: Yeah. The squishies. Balls. The nuts.



So, if anyone is trying to reach me, I'll be in the bathroom mirror plucking gray hairs.